


Do It For Us

by asteroidhearts



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steven Universe (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 'do it for her' is so good, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Romance, VERY FIRST FIC AHHHHH, okay, please enjoy, thanks to my friend for showing me steven universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5508926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteroidhearts/pseuds/asteroidhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The city in Sokovia was floating, and then it was not.  The Avengers had been fighting for hours, and then they were not.  You were beyond happy and jolly, and then you were not.</p><p>Does it have to take a war for you and the captain to realize how much you mean to one another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do It For Us

**Author's Note:**

> hello! so this is my first fic. it was inspired by the song from Steven Universe, "Do It For Her". i could not stop thinking about how "OH MYYYY this is SUCH a Steve song" when i first heard it, so i ended up writing this. the beginning scene in the quinjet may or may not be exact to the film, so i'm sorry in advance.
> 
> slightly cliche as well in regards to being a chemically enhanced Avenger, on par at hand-to-hand combat with Nat, cute!Steve, shy!Steve, etc. but i'd like to believe it's still worth the read.
> 
> anyway, i hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it!

_Everything you have, everything you are_

_You’ve got to give on the battlefield when everything is chaos_

_And you have nothing but the way you feel, your strategy, and a sword_

_You just think about the life you’ll have together after the war_

_And then you do it for her_

_That’s how you know you can win_

_What they don’t know is your real advantage:_

_When you live for someone, you’re prepared to die_

**_You’d do it for her, that is to say, you’ll do it for him_ **

 

 

 

“We’re not on a field trip, (Y/N).”

 

You stopped humming, rolling your eyes at Tony’s saltiness.

 

Yet he was right, this was not a trip of that sort.  You, along with the Avengers and the Maximoff twins, were on your way to Sokovia where Ultron had decided to move his war.  You were Nat’s equal when it came to fighting, but what made you unique and worthy to be part of the Initiative, apart from your tendency to be the team clown, was your inability to feel pain and ability to heal rapidly.  After an incident in the biochemical laboratories at the Hub, you were knocked out thanks to the panic and commotion your fellow scientists had caused.  Your exposure to the puddle of combined Level-9 chemicals on the floor modified your entire internal anatomy to the point where Commander Hill took you out of your position as senior biochemist at the Hub and sent you to the Sandbox to be quarantined.

 

For several months, you were monitored at the desert base, until another incident finally revealed your ability: a 7.42 mm bullet was fired from an unknowing guard’s rifle and went flying straight into your right arm.  Alarms went off in the hall of cages, and operatives found you pulling out the bullet from your ruptured muscle tissues as if it was no big deal.  And it wasn’t: in mere seconds, the hole in your arm had disappeared at your command, leaving only blood where there was once a bullet hole.  You now shone in Fury’s eyes, and so began your combat training under Hill (and, on occasion, with Nat).  Your training became your biggest ally when the Avengers Initiative was proposed, created, and put to the test in New York.

 

Steve let out a short chuckle at your eye-roll.  You glanced at him and smiled.  Steve’s chuckle quickly faded as his cheeks changed to a very light tint of pink.  His blushing made you blush.

 

You would never forget the day you first talked to Steve, and Steve had sworn always to remember the first time he  _saw_   you.

 

You had walked into the commands center of the helicarrier, and while you _did_ see Steve first at the conference table, your eyes moved to the bloodied stack of mint vintage Captain America cards on the table.  You only knew one person with those cards, and you didn’t know if you were prepared to have your mad thoughts confirmed.

 

“We’re dead in the air up here.  Our communications, location of the cube, –“

 

“ _Coulson_?” your voice cracked, interrupting the Director.  Everyone else’s eyes turned to you while your eyes were dead locked on the cards.

 

“(Y/L/N)…” Fury began.

 

Nat, the person nearest to you who was sat, held your wrist.  You didn’t shake her hand off, and neither your rage.

 

Natasha might have sensed your anger, but Steve was the only one who truly felt it.  His blue eyes stayed on your jaw-locked face, on your eyes, watery but without tears.  Fury heaved a sigh before continuing.  You didn’t sit down.  When Stark walked out, you didn’t move.  Natasha didn’t let go of your wrist at all.  Your eyes stayed on the cards, an incredibly strong emotion that you didn’t know you had boiling at the pit of your stomach.

 

It might have been Coulson being killed, it might have been your voice failing at Coulson’s name, or Natasha clinging to your wrist, or your eyes that wanted to cry but didn’t, or the way your hands balled into fists so tight your leather gloves frayed at the knuckles…

 

Whatever it was, it made Steve decide, it made him initiate, and it made him want to protect – protect _you_.

 

Whatever it was, it grew big and quick, and Steve never could stop thinking about you during the battle (constant “How are we looking over there, (Y/N)?” through the comms), after the battle (stealing glances at you as you slowly bit into your fourth shawarma, watching in  jealousy as you made mental conversations with Banner and even more when Banner touched the deep cut that ran along your forearm), and when you all decided to go your separate ways after New York (getting excited when your name appeared on his phone screen, excelling at texting you but never quite succeeding at calling).  And one day, he woke up, and a deep intangible ache in his chest was the affirmation he didn’t realize he needed all this time: he loved… No.

 

He _loves_ you.

 

But you didn’t know.

 

He didn’t know about yours either.

 

You first introduced yourself to him when he, you, Nat, and Clint jacked a Quinjet to fly to New York.  Watching him fly the jet, you were mesmerized – by his concentration, his seriousness, his I’m-gonna-kick-Loki’s-busted-rear aura, his fantastically blue eyes, his lips…, that you didn’t quite realize you had been staring until Nat pulled you aside, quietly and quickly interrogated you, and you broke it to her that you may or may not had just developed a crush on Steve Rogers right then and there.

 

That crush grew during the battle (answering all of his questions and asking him back as well as the others just to mask your favoritism), after the battle (trying your very best not to look his way so you decided to just stuff your face with as much shawarma as possible, “conversing” with Banner instead), and when everybody decided to take leave (mustering up the courage to contact him first and failing at your attempts to call).  Then one morning as you drank your coffee, you suddenly felt extremely dissociated – five seconds of control loss, and you fell, pretty deeply, for the man out of time.

 

Now, with still quite some time left before reaching Sokovia, you decided to pull something off, both to annoy Tony and to catch Steve’s attention.

 

“’Alright, everything begins with your stance’,” you began.  Everybody’s eyes were now on you as you walked to the center of the jet.  Natasha caught on fast.  “Come on, Nat.  Get in your stance.”

 

“What the hell are you doing now?” sighed Tony.

 

“Hush, Tin Man.” You said, earning chuckles from all around, your heart elating when your ears distinguished Steve’s.

 

“What _are_ you doing?” Clint asked, grinning.  Banner, sitting beside him, was watching in wry amusement.  The twins exchanged looks.

 

“ _Steven Universe._ ” Nat answered, her arms folded over her chest in mild amusement.

 

“ _Whose_ universe?” Steve inquired.

 

You turned to him, gave him a rather sly smile, and returned to Nat.  Steve’s blush deepened at your smile.

 

“Come on!  Stance, stance, stance,” you hurriedly instructed.  Natasha rolled her eyes, walking over to the center where you were standing.  “Good, good.”

 

“Oh, is it?” Nat jokingly asked, laughing.  You lifted an eyebrow, and began the performance.

 

“’Remember: _you’d do it for him, and you would do it again_ ,” you sang.  Clint and Steve’s smile dropped – you could SING, and they did NOT know.  “ _You’d do it for her, that is to say, you’ll do it for him_.”

 

“This is so stupid.” Nat laughed.

 

You rose a pointer finger to your lips, smirking.  Natasha stopped laughing, a gentle smile replacing it.  Natasha now stood in front of you, her back to the front panel of the jet.  You had a view of everyone’s face, most especially Steve.

 

And how Steve had wished to be your index finger…

 

“ _Keep your stance wide / keep your body lowered / as you’re moving forward, balance is the key…_ ”  At the lyrics, Natasha widened her stance, lowered her body, and moved forward a little towards you, one hand behind her back and the other raised as if she were holding a sword.

 

“ _Right foot, left foot_ ” – with a hand on the bottom of your spine, you moved your right foot forward then your left, Nat mirroring your moves – “ _Now go even faster_ …” Natasha put her right foot forward then her left, you now mirroring her movements.  You switched again, and you moved right-then-left forward once more.  “ _And as you’re moving backwards, keep your eyes on me._ ”

 

At “eyes on me”, you pointed dramatically at yourself.  Natasha laughed again.  Your smirk returned partnered by a gaze that was quite more lewd than you had probably intended.  Steve’s knees slightly wavered.  He had never seen you make that… face before.

 

“I could watch this all day.”  Clint commented, amused.

 

“Our key to success in battling Ultron.”  Banner added.

 

You faced Banner with the very same gaze.  “Oh, just you wait.”

 

“ _Everything you have, everything you are, you’ve got to give on the battlefield_ …” You continued singing.

 

“Ah, words of wisdom,” Banner nodded his head.  “I see.”

 

“ _When everything is chaos, and you have nothing but the way you feel, / your strategy, and a_ ” – you paused, trying to find a word to replace ‘sword’ since you weren’t going to use swords in the battle with Ultron – “ _Thor_.”

 

Natasha broke her stance, doubling over in laughter.  Even the others, who didn’t know that you had replaced the original lyric, cackled, including Tony, because, well, it was funny, and you were funny.  And Steve… Well, Steve was falling even deeper.

 

“ _You just think about the life you’ll have together after the war_ …”

 

That line caused the room to become somber.  Never mind that everybody had been cracking up just a few seconds ago.  You all obediently thought of your lives after the war.  And the word _together_ … Your cheeks reddened and your heart raced, each thump ringing in your ears and emphasizing the chances of you and Steve–

 

A low, raspy voice had broken your and everyone’s deep thoughts.

 

“ _And then you’d do it for her… that’s how you know you can win_.”

 

That wasn’t you.

 

That was _Nat_.

 

“NATASHA!”  Clint hollered.  Banner’s face fell.  The twins were giggling.

 

“I am just so _sick_ and _tired_ of _people_ on this _vehicle_!”  Tony grumbled, as if he really were frustrated.

 

You, Steve, and Natasha were the main source of the guffawing in the vehicle.  You walked over and gave Nat a hug, snickering at your friends’ reactions.

 

“Did you know she could do that?” Steve asked you, a wide grin on his face.  His eyes had the slightest crinkles at the ends; his smile was a little too big on his face.

 

You nodded, also beaming, wading in the fact that _man, did you love seeing Steve Rogers happy_.

 

“Okay, okay, we’re not done yet, we’re not done yet,” Nat said, letting you go.  You jogged to where you had been standing before.

 

You pointed hesitantly at yourself.  “Do you want me to…?”

 

“Just finish the damned thing!”  Tony hollered, feigning annoyance.

 

You jumped right into it.  “ _Deep down / you know / you weren’t built for fighting. / But that doesn’t mean you’re not prepared to try…_ ”  At this point you and Nat were just playing an imaginary Star Wars-type light saber-fight, using your arms as sabers, your wrists occasionally clashing.

 

“ _What they / don’t know / is your real advantage: / when you live for someone, you’re prepared to die…_ ”

 

“ _Ugh_.” Clint thumped a fist against his chest.

 

“It’s from a cartoon, Clint,” you giggled, but inside, you agreed with his reaction.  You _agreed_.

 

Nat knew what to do next.  She grabbed the opportunity for you to subliminally confess your feelings for a certain someone.

 

“ _You’d do it for her…_ ” Nat picked up.  Your eyes widened at her; you caught on fast, too.  Nat slightly tilted her head at you.  “ _And now you say…_ ”

 

You gulped.  You glanced away at the floor, then at Steve.  He was no longer smiling.  Rather, he looked… hopeful, like he was expectant of the lyric you were supposed to sing.  You parted your lips, ready to sing.

 

Tony’s voice stopped you.  “We’re here.”

 

 

xxxxxx

 

 

Several transporters picked up everybody from the battle, not just the Avengers, but citizens of Sokovia as well.  You were exhausted, and heated, and, frankly, a little hungry.  You were just so _exasperated_ , from all the fighting, all the rubble, all the innocent lives lost, hearing the screams of people desperate for help while you fought off robots, torn between eradicating the population of Ultron’s minions and running off to save as many people as possible.  You had been fighting alongside Steve and Nat, keeping the battle in your part of the city.  Steve had sensed your dilemma – reluctantly, he let you off away from him to help bring people to safety.  Using nothing more than brute and anything within arm’s reach, you fought off anything and everything that blockaded your way to stray Sokovians, Steve’s eyes glancing in your direction every now and then.

 

Now, you found yourself staring emptily at minuscule buildings, towns, trees, and clouds below the transporter you were on.  Your face was mired with asphalt dust that had turned to mud as they mixed with your sweat.  Your gloves were ripped, and your apparently durable cat-suit were torn in various places, exposing your gashes and cuts.  You stood close to the opening at the front, unsure of what to feel, lulled into a fake relaxation by the gentle hum of the transporter.  In the far back of the transporter, a baby wailed.  You should be happy, with all these lives saved, but the male Maximoff’s untimely checkout shook you to the core.

 

You had been a hairsbreadth away from checking out too.

 

“Hey,” a soft yet greatly familiar voice sounded by your side.  You heaved a sigh, quietly letting it out through your nose.

 

Steve had been watching you peering over the view beyond the opening.  The amount of wounds you had was alarming, especially the one that began from the center of your chest and ran in a jagged, slanted line to the right side of your hip.  Steve wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch every wound, embrace you, put some life back in you… You looked so lifeless, barely even blinking, the complete opposite of how you had been hours ago.  Your lips were thin and heavily chapped, evident even from where Steve had been standing.  Your ponytail waved stiffly in the wind.  You could heal yourself, so why weren’t you?  Steve amassed what strength he had and ordered his legs to move to where you stood.

 

And now that he was there beside you, you didn’t even acknowledge him.

 

“I…” he tried to begin, but what does one say in moments like this?  He looked down at his feet, then back up at you.

 

“Have you ever seen your life just… flash before your eyes?”

 

Steve didn’t like your tone.  Not even one bit.

 

He furrowed his eyebrows.  “What do you mean?” his voice was almost inaudible.

 

You looked down.  You craned your neck to survey the passengers of this particular transporter.

 

You turned to Steve, looking at him dead in the eye.  “I got shot.”

 

Steve’s brows flattened.  His shoulders slumped, arms suddenly limp.  _She got_ what _?_

 

And then he found it.  His eyes landed on a hole in your suit just above the left side of your chest.  The hole was almost invisible if not for the frayed edges of the circular cutout, the blood underneath so thick and dark that it blended with your immensely dark maroon suit.

 

Steve’s voice shook.  “(Y/N)…”

 

“I’m useless,” you said flatly.  “What good is it to be able heal yourself but not –“

 

A hand grabbed at your waist, swiveling your entire body to face your right in one swift move.  You wobbled a little, but the hand on your waist traveled to the small of your back, stabling you while another hand cupped the side of your neck, until you were frozen, feeling nothing but the closeness of Steve’s body… and his lips on yours.

 

To him, you tasted of cement, of hard work, the sick metallic aftertaste of blood, and the minty coldness of early winter when the breeze was strong and nipped early frost at the skin.  Your hands absentmindedly placed themselves on his arm and cheek.  His lips were better than you imagined they would be: pure bliss, sweet as cherries, as cold as ice but as warm as morning coffee.

 

He pulled away, pulling you a bit closer.

 

“I did it for you,” he said, almost breathless, and you weren’t quite sure what he was talking about at first, until he spoke more.  “The song.  I- I thought about my life after the war and I saw… you.”

 

It was a surprise that your newly healed heart didn’t jump straight out of your chest at his words.  But you could hear it rattling against your ribcage, yelling exit.  _Steve Rogers…?_

 

“Steve…” you mumbled.

 

He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes looking downward, his thumb softly grazing your cheek.  “I didn’t want to let you out of my sight… but I had to, because I know you wanted to.  And at one point… I think I fought for you.  And we won.”

 

You lifted his face, drinking the beauty of his perennially blue eyes.  You smiled and kissed him again, and again, and again, and again.  Steve chuckled in between each kiss.  Whatever did he do to deserve somebody like you?  You pulled away this time, and grinned.

 

“I love you.” “I love you.”

 

You both chuckled.  It seemed like you both had forgotten the passengers with you on the transporter, but they didn’t forget about you at all.  One clap started it all, and then the whole vehicle erupted into applause.  You laughed, and Steve beamed, resting his chin on top of your head.  His arms tightened around your torso as you rested your head against his chest, gleaming at the passengers.  Beneath his arms, the wound across your abdomen finally began to heal.

 

Whatever _it_ was, you both shared it, and he did it for you – that was to say, you did it for him too.


End file.
